


we come from the land of ice and snow

by malkinisms (hannibalisms)



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Jotunn!Loki, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Warning: Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalisms/pseuds/malkinisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is so cold, so white, that Thor is thankful that he's found this little cave to huddle in for the night.  He should have listened to his father; he should never have ventured off-planet to Jotunheim to see what the Jotnar really were.  He should have known better, he should have, but he has always been headstrong and curious about the people that conquered his father and made the Aesir bow to the will of the Jotnar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we come from the land of ice and snow

**Author's Note:**

> AU - the Jotnar won the war, Loki's the prince, Thor's one of the last Aesir
> 
> for my lovely, [darling samuel <3](http://jotun-turtle.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [also here on tumblr](http://kipumylly.tumblr.com/post/34402425199/fic-we-come-from-the-land-of-ice-and-snow)
> 
>  
> 
>  _we come from the land of the ice and snow,_  
>  _from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow._  
>  _how soft your fields, so green, can whisper tales of gore,_  
>  _of how we calmed the tides of war; we are your overlords_.

The world is so cold, so white, that Thor is thankful that he's found this little cave to huddle in for the night.  He should have listened to his father; he should never have ventured off-planet to Jotunheim to see what the Jotnar really were.  He should have known better, he  _should have_ , but he has always been headstrong and curious about the people that conquered his father and made the Aesir bow to the will of the Jotnar.

That's why he's curled up in this cave, waiting for this storm to pass so he can get back to his entrance point and make it back to Asgard, but the storms on Jotunheim are  _lethal,_  he knows, and he could be stuck in this cave for a long period of time.  He could die here, and no one would know, and his father's line would die out.

"What's this?  A little Aesir scout, caught off his guard?"

Thor whirls from the fire that he's managed to coax into life, Mjolnir in his hand, but he knows that his hands shake with cold and he will  _lose_  against any full-grown Jotunn.

But this one doesn't look fully grown - but it could still be formidable.  The Jotunn circles around the far edge of the cave, skirting the edge of the light, and Thor follows it with his eyes, keeping an equal distance between them.

"I mean no harm to your people," Thor says, "and intend to remove myself from your planet as soon as the storm recedes."

"And yet you hold your weapon aloft," it says, and Thor cannot yet tell its gender, but he can see the glint of the ceremonial bands around it's wrists and its eyeshine.

"I do not know your intent."

It laughs and comes full into the light.  It - he - is wrapped in furs from elbow to knee, bound with bright scarlet ties.  He has two obsidian-bladed axes, one strapped to each hip, and a dagger bound to his calf.  His horns curve back from his face and then curl back forwards in a spiral, like that of a goat.  They're black and ridged, and Thor thinks that they must make for cumbersome things.

"My intent?  I patrol these hills.  You are in my territory, little Aesir, that I am duty-bound to protect."  He has circled so that Thor is pinned against the back wall of the cave, and though he could harm the Jotunn, he knows that he has no way of killing him.

Thor shifts from foot to foot, making sure his balance is set as best as it can be on the rock floor.

"Then go patrol, and leave me, and you shall see naught of me ever again."

The Jotunn tsks and rests his hands on his hips.  "If I did that, what kind of prince would I be?  You could be a spy, or an insurgent - ergo, it is my duty to suss out your purpose here."

"A  _prince_?"

He comes closer the fire and crouches down, and Thor can see now that he does have more gold and jewels on his person that most of the Jotnar would ever have, and his clan lines are deep and well-formed.

He looks up and smirks.  "Yes.  Prince Loki, middle son of the High King Farbauti and High Queen Nal.  I have been charged with the task of keeping these far lands safe.  So I have to decide what to do with you, little Aesir spy."

"I am not a spy!"

"No?" Loki cocks his head to the side and Thor notices that his hair is kept long - so he  _must_  be royalty, for only they are allowed to let their hair grow to such lengths.

He decides to throw caution to the wind - for perhaps, this will grant him some sort of clemency - and says, "I am Prince Thor, of Asgard."

Loki raises one eyebrow but stretches his hands out to the fire, warming them, though Thor wonders that it is not necessary for him to do so, since he is of the ice.  The flame licks his palms and he does not recoil.

"Well, that changes matters.  A royal spy, come to fight for his people, perhaps?  To plead with my father for the return of Odin's power?"

"No!" Thor says, and since the Jotunn isn't making a move to harm him, he edges forward and stretches his own hands to the fire, because he  _does_  need the warmth - the chill is creeping back into his bones, and it nearly burns with its intensity.

"My father, the king, warned me to not come because it was not a hospitable place - but I have always wanted to know."

"To know?"

Thor shrugs, tucking his warm hands back inside his cloak - one sneaking down to wrap around Mjolnir's handle, and he knows that the other has seen the movement, but he still does not make a move to touch his own weapons.  "To know what the Jotnar really were.  Are, I suppose.  I have never doubted your existence, but I have never encountered one, except for in my books."

Loki cants his head to the side, blinking at Thor for a moment.  "Rarely do others trouble to come to our world.  We are the victors.  Why visit those who have subjugated you?"

Loki reaches forward and plucks a burning ember from the fire, cradling it in his hands and it doesn't burn him, or cause him harm, but the flame flutters and dances and then shudders out.  He curls his hands around it then, and crushes it to dust.

Thor understands the metaphor.

Loki brushes his hands off on his knees, and eyes Thor again; his eyes are so red and deep that it makes Thor shiver; with what, he isn't sure.

"So tell me, little Aesir spy, little Aesir prince, what now to do?  Flay you now and take your carcass back to my father?  Let you leave here and take tales of our savage ways back to you your people?"

Thor shivers, and tightens his hand around Mjolnir's shaft.

"Ah, that would not be a good idea, little prince.  That would make your death swift and certain."

Loki shifts on his feet and Thor recognizes his stance, a stance of a predator marking the movement of his prey.  It is a stance that Thor has often taken, but he has never experienced the fear that blossoms on the receiving end.

"It seems we are at a standstill, then," Thor manages to retort, false bravado.

"Ah, I do not think so," Loki says, and Thor feels his world shift sideways, up and down, and the ground meets him, and he does not remember anything else.

* * *

When he wakes, the world is spinning and he's being jostled - slung inside something, with the barking and whining of dogs surrounding him - and it makes him groan with it, and a face comes into view, upside down and above him - the same Jotunn that found him, Loki.

"Ah, you've woken.  We're close now.  Do not get sick in my hundeslæde, if you please."

His face vanishes and Thor goes to wipe his hair out of his face but he cannot - his hands are bound with a soft, but strong, rope, and his feet are, too.  Mjolnir is tied between his hands, and  _that_  is how Loki managed to get the hammer in the sled; he tied Thor's hands around it and, thus, Thor was lifting it.

He's buried in furs and fabric, and for all that he is a prisoner he is thankful that he is, at least, warm.

They travel for some time, and Thor doesn't know how long it really is until Loki barks something out to the dogs and they slide to a stop.

"Stay," Loki says as he walks past the sled - as though Thor could manage to go anywhere, with his hands and feet bound.

He watches as Loki takes the time to care for his dogs - huge white and grey dire wolves, wild and slobbering - and he thinks of ways that he could escape, but he is so bone-tired and weak that he doesn't even know if he could walk.

Then Loki is back, pulling the furs off him and carries them into a cabin or building of some sort - it's not very large, certainly not what he was expecting - but in the storm, it's hard to tell.

He returns once more and heaves Thor out of the sled and over his shoulder - and Thor tightens his grip on Mjolnir, thinking to knock Loki's legs out from under him, but he'd rather get warm a little before getting away.

He squirms for a moment, protesting being carried like a sack of potatoes, but Loki just hefts him once more before kicking the door open and dropping him on a pile of furs near the fireplace.

Loki shuts the door and ignores Thor - probably because he knows that Thor isn't strong enough at the moment to pose a real threat - and strips off his furs, tossing them on top of Thor and Thor pulls them close with the little movement of his fingers that he has, enough so that he's covered.

This gives him time to examine the Prince; he is as tall as Thor, probably, but whip-cord thin and sleek with muscle.  He wears armor under his furs, but it's a curious armor: a breastplate and guards on his upper arms, but nothing on his wrists but those thick gold bands.  He keeps his axes strapped to his hips as he turns and approaches the fireplace and crouches next to Thor.

"I do not intend to bring you to my father, but I cannot allow you to continue your exploration of my planet.  Our peace is stretched thin as it is - and to find you here could break that.  You will remain here until the storm ends, and then I will take you where you need to be.  If you do not listen, I will have to take you to my father, and we do not want that.  Do you agree?"

"I have no choice to say otherwise."

"Untrue.  You could say no, and I could knock you unconscious again, and we could go to my father, or I could just kill you and be done with it," Loki says flatly, "so I would say that you have quite a bit of choice, honestly."

Loki tilts his head to the side - and it must be a quirk, to make him look unassuming when he is, in all actuality, quite dangerous - and says, "So I ask you again, little Aesir prince: what is your choice?"

Thor leans back a little, staring Loki down, but Loki doesn't blink.  "I will accept."

"Very well.  If you promise to be good, I'll unbind you.  One false move, and I'll have you bound again.  Understood?"

Thor nods, and Loki pulls the knife from his calf sheath and slits the ropes.  Thor rubs his wrists and his ankles, and Loki just sits there, head tilted, watching Thor as though he's a curious creature, a mystical thing.

Thor reaches for Mjolnir and Loki tenses, but all Thor does is wipe off the grime with a corner of his cloak and set it nearer the fire to dry the leather that wraps around the hammer's shaft.

Loki hums and tilts his head a little further to the side, as though he wants to study and dissect Thor, figure out what makes him tick.  Thor pulls the furs around until they're draped over his shoulders and pooled in his lap, and he wants to take off his armor, but at the same time - at the same time it would leave him far too vulnerable.

Loki stands and makes his way over to a chest in the corner, and Thor watches him peel off his armor and drop it in - not caring to clean it, nor to make sure it's well-kept - and then he turns again, points a finger at Thor, and says, "Stay here. Stay inside.  I'm bolting the door from without.  I will return soon."

He swings the door open and Thor shivers as the snow blows in, and without grabbing more furs Loki steps out into it, and Thor can hear the bolt outside slide home.

He shivers again and leans closer to the fire, hands out to let the fire nearly lick them, but eventually he warms and he can squirm out of the bundle of skins.

The cabin is sparse: chest, bed, cabinet, table and chairs, pile of furs.  There must be food in the cabinet, but Thor doesn't want to rifle through things because he fears that Loki will return and he will be caught.  He doesn't want to sleep, but even though he must have slept on the sled, it wasn't natural sleep.  The urge to sleep is sinking into his bones, now that he is warm and relatively safe - and that he has Mjolnir again - and he decides that it cannot hurt to sleep whilst Loki has gone.

He calls the hammer to his hand, and gathers up some additional furs for the bed, and collapses in it, mindless of the grime and damp that is still upon him.  He pulls the furs around him, and sleeps.

* * *

He wakes some time later, eyes slit, and Loki is seated in front of the fireplace, knees to his chest and eyes nearly closed, but as Thor moves he turns his head and regards Thor with some kind of emotion that he cannot place.

"You sleep soundly."

Thor shrugs, not bothering to slip from the bed.

"I shan't slit your throat in the night.  You can remove your armor.  You agreed to my bargain, and I will stick to it.  I do not go back on my word," Loki says, pushing himself off the floor and goes to the table.

He brings a bowl over to the bed and sits on the edge, and Thor cannot hold back his flinch, but it's just stew, still steaming and warm.  It smells fragrant and delicious.

"Rensdyr," Loki says, "with potatoes and root vegetables.  Simple but filling.  There's more, if this is not enough."

"You have my thanks," Thor says, and sits up to accept the bowl.

It is good, but it is unnerving that Loki just sits and watches him eat until the bowl is empty, and when Thor moves to take the bowl to the table, Loki takes it from him and cleans it in a bucket - and Thor cannot stop himself from watching the line of his back, how his muscles tense, and he dislikes himself for it.

When Loki turns, he frowns again.  "Are you not going to take your armor off?  It cannot be comfortable for you to sleep in."

He approaches Thor and pushes the furs away, and takes his arm - and Thor lets him, and he doesn't know why, but that's a lie, because he  _does_  know - and he unbuckles one vambrace, then the other, and works methodically until he reaches Thor's breastplate.  Loki slides onto the bed on his knees, and his fingers hesitate, and then Thor reaches up.

"Here," Thor says, and for some reason shows Loki the hidden clasp at the side that keeps it shut.

Loki's eyes are half-shut, slits of gleaming red that match Thor's cloak.  Blue and white and scarlet and black and gold, blurring colors that make Thor's head spin.  Loki pulls it off, over his head, but just sits there looking at him, and Thor does not move.

He reaches out, then, and his fingers stop a little distance from Thor's cheek.  Thor doesn't flinch, doesn't move, and then Loki presses his fingers just under Thor's cheekbone.  His head tilts to the side - and Thor can't help but find it endearing, maybe, enthralling - and his fingertips stroke his skin for a second, then over the scruff of his beard, up to his eyebrows, and then to feel the texture of his hair.

"We are not so different, perhaps," he says, twisting Thor's hair between his fingers, "but only where people think it matters."

"I thought your touch was harmful to those that are not of the Jotnar," Thor says, and since Loki is touching him - well, turnabout's fair play - and he mirrors Loki's actions, tracing the scars that are over his forehead and cheeks.  "Did these hurt?"

"We are born with them," Loki says, and doesn't move from where Thor is touching him.  "Ordinarily we do hurt others by touch, but I am skilled in magic, and when I had to pick you up before I spelled my touch to be harmless to you."

"When will it fade?"

"When I wish it to do so."

"That's a useful talent; very few on Asgard have magic."

Loki shrugs and turns his head, and he snuffles into Thor's palm.  "It is one of the only things that my mother and father are proud of me for."

Thor doesn't know what to say to this openness, because this is essentially a hostage situation - and perhaps it's some kind of attachment to Loki because he is being kind to him when he could have taken him to his father - but he doesn't  _want_  to hurt him, and he doesn't know  _why_.

He just lets Loki breathe into his palm for a few minutes, and he feels kind of at peace, calm, and it's reassuring in a way that he can't name, doesn't want to name.

Loki pulls away and clambers off the bed, legs shaky and he doesn't turn back when he says, "Sleep.  I have things to do.  I will return before the morning."

He exits, and Thor hears the bolts slide home again.

He sleeps.

* * *

He wakes to someone getting into the bed with him, and he moves to grab Mjolnir but a hand closes on his wrist - "It's only me, little prince, only me. Return to sleep," - and he shuffles closer to the wall of the cabin to give Loki more room.

"What hour?" he mumbles, half-asleep, still weighty with exhaustion.

"3 past moonrise.  Sleep, little prince," Loki says, and Thor can feel him settle down behind him, and he's cold from the outside - where the storm still rages, howling and whistling - but he warms quickly, until he's as warm as Thor, and Thor sleeps again.

When he wakes, he's alone again but he expects it because Loki does have things to do, he guesses, taking care of the dogs and patrolling the area.  After all, that's how he found Thor breaking their laws and peace accords.  He tries the door, and it is predictably locked.

He can still hear the storm - just as violent as it was yesterday - and he settles down in front of the fire again with a bowl of still-hot porridge that he finds on the table.  It's plain and unsweetened, but it tastes like heaven to his empty stomach.

When he finishes, he puts the bowl where he found it and, deciding to pass the time, he gathers up his armor and pulls some polish out from his bag - which Loki must have brought in when he came back early in the morning, because he certainly did not have it with him when Loki first brought him to the cabin.

He takes his time, oiling joints and cleaning away the dirt from when he spent time in the cave.  It's something that he can do mindlessly, because he has done it for so many years in the same way: clean the dirt away, rub in the cleaner, rub it off, polish.

He's nearly finished when he hears the bolts move - and just in case, he calls Mjolnir to his hand and takes up a fighting stance, but the door swings open and Loki squeezes through, trying to keep the wind and snow from the interior of the cabin, a brace of coneys slung over his shoulder.

Thor settles back down and finishes his armor as Loki moves around behind him until he sits on the floor next to Thor, flinging a mass of fur over his shoulders and scooting close to the fire.

"Storm won't end for a few days, little prince.  We're going to be stuck here."

Thor nods as he finishes his armor and moves on to cleaning Mjolnir.  "I appreciate your efforts to keep me living and well, though you should not have to do so."

Loki doesn't answer, just fans his hands out on his knees and stares down and doesn't say anything for a moment.  "Unlike my brothers, I do not wish to kill all those that are not us; I would rather learn from our differences and go from there.  Why do we all fight?  Because it seems inborn, when it is, in all actuality, not."

Thor notices then, looking at Loki's hands, that they're flecked with blood - probably from the coneys - and it distresses him, for some reason.  He gets up from his spot in front of the fire and can feel Loki's eyes on him as he rummages in his pack for a clean rag, and wets it in the water barrel in the corner.  When he sits again, he reaches for Loki's right hand and begins to methodically clean the blood from his hands, making sure to clear it from his fingernails.

Loki says nothing as he does so - and Thor thinks, perhaps this seems to him a repayment for helping Thor with his armor, and giving him the bed - but just watches, eyes unreadable.

Thor tosses it with the other dirty rags, and he notices as he looks at Loki that his fingernails are black, rather than clear as the Aesir are; he grips Loki's hand again to trace over the raised lines that trail up his arm.

Loki shivers, and Thor knows that it is not from the cold.

Loki lets him trace the scars up his arm and into the crook of his elbow, when he shivers again and leans forward, just enough, enough that Thor knows the attention is welcome.

Thor connects the dots then, because it's clear: Loki is not touched enough, Loki has not been loved, the opposite of Thor.  Thor was the golden child of his family, even though their world is failing and there is not many Aesir left.  But Loki - Loki is the second son, diminutive in comparison to the other Jotnar; he said that his parents did not care for him, not in those words, but it was close enough.

Thor trails his fingers back down, back over the thin bones of his hand to lift Loki's fingers to his mouth, and he presses a kiss to the tip of each digit.

He wants - oh, how he wants, but he does not know if it would be welcome, though Loki has not struck him down.

He reaches out with his other hand and Loki meets him halfway, almost scrambling, and Thor brings them up to his face, pressing a kiss to each palm, and Loki lets out a shaky sigh.  Thor inches forward, slowly, making sure that Loki isn't going to pull away, and their knees touch.

Neither of them speak, and maybe it's because they don't need words just now.

Thor leans forward, and their foreheads touch; he can just feel the rough edges of Loki's horns and the smooth gold that wraps around the base and forms the circlet in his hair.  Thor can feel his every blink, his every breath, and it's like he has found something on this journey, something that he has been missing.

"We are not so different," Loki whispers, an echo of the day before.

"We are not," Thor answers, because that's what it is, a request for confirmation that they are not different, that they are the same.

Loki moves and wraps his arms around Thor's shoulders, pressing his forehead into the crook of Thor's neck.  He breathes in hot puffs, shuddering, and Thor threads his fingers through Loki's hair, just to touch, to offer him what he can.

Loki makes a soft noise, scoots forward so that their legs fit together, interlocked.  Thor lets him, almost cradling Loki between his legs because Loki has gone boneless in his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.

His breaths are shuddering now, fingers digging into Thor's back, and Thor strokes his hair with one hand as he shifts to hold him with the other.

"Loki," he says, and Loki makes another soft noise that Thor thinks might have been his name, but it's too muffled to make out.

Loki pulls away and cups Thor's face in his hands, eyes tracing over his face and Thor has never been looked at in that way, has never had another person look at him as though he may hold all the answers.  He passes his thumbs over Thor's cheekbones a few times, until he simply leans forwards and kisses Thor.

It's not the deepest of kisses, the most erotic kiss that he's had, but for some reason it simply means more than the others, more than the girls that he thought he would fall in love with eventually, more than any of the relationships he has ever had.

This moment, stuck on the planet of the enemy, trapped in a cabin with one of the princes, Thor knows that it doesn't matter what happened before this moment, in the time before this.  He knows that what matters is what happens next, where they go from here, what he wants and what Loki wants.

Loki pulls away, slowly, and Thor opens his eyes to lock them with Loki, because he doesn't know how to get across this - this revelation.  But it might not be needed, because Loki is looking at him in the same way, he thinks, mesmerized and confused and full of wonder.

"What," Thor manages, and Loki crooks a smile, one that is both soft and sharp, before he leans back in and they kiss again.

He could kiss Loki forever, he thinks, as they clutch at each other and Loki presses him backwards into the pile of furs.  Loki tastes like snow and sweetness, and it makes Thor want to map his mouth with his tongue.

It's clear that Loki is in control, and Thor doesn't much mind because he knows that Loki needs to be, and Thor  _wants_  him to be - though he wouldn't admit it to anyone but Loki.  But, Loki knows - he  _has_  to know, Thor thinks, because of the way that he's pinned Thor at the hips.

Loki leans down and Thor is once again so vividly reminded that Loki is dangerous, that he could kill Thor in a moment, but he has chosen to not do so.  He does nothing but watch as Loki leans close, almost touching noses, and shifts his hips; Thor moans, because he hadn't realized how aroused he was, how hot they both were.

"You can say no, if you wish it," Loki tells him, his eyes flicking back and forth between each of Thor's, "but it does not seem that you will say no."

"I would not say no to you," Thor breathes, and Loki grins again, sharp teeth ultra-white against his blue skin.

"Good, my little prince," he says, and reaches up to strip off his tunic - and Thor has not dreamed of what laid beneath the fabric, but it is better than his imagination could conjure.  Loki is thin, he knows this, but he is not without muscle.  Willowy and powerful, his clan lines trace over his skin and Thor wants to follow them with his tongue when he next has a chance - if he ever gets another chance.

He's flushed nearly purple, and Thor can't resist the urge to touch so he reaches up and grips Loki's shoulders, pulling him down for another kiss.  Loki moans into the kiss, and his hands struggle with the ties of Thor's own tunic until he pulls away and makes Thor sit up a little so that he can touch Thor in turn.

Loki leans down, then, and they writhe together until Thor is panting into Loki's mouth, hips stuttering up without the permission of his mind and Loki is grinding down against him in a counter-rhythm.  His hands find Loki's thighs and his fingers press into his flesh - probably hard enough to leave marks - and when his nails bite into the skin, Loki lets out a short "Ah!" and he rears up.

His eyes are wild and for a second his skin flickers, back and forth like a strange signal, and then the blue fades, like clouds blowing from the sky on the windiest of days, and then he matches Thor in skin.  He's milky pale, though, and his eyes are green; his hair is the same black, and his horns melt away into his skin.

It shocks Thor into stillness, to see Loki like that, but - at the same time - 

"You can touch me easier this way," Loki pants, running his hands over his own skin like he can't believe that he managed to do it.

"It's not you, though," Thor says, but at the same time he can't stop his fingers from passing over Loki's skin, smooth, without clan lines.  "This isn't Loki."

And as fast as it happened, it stops, pale receding and turning back to blue, and Loki smiles, just a little.  His horns sprout again, like grotesque flowers, though they are beautiful in their own way.

"But would you rather not have me as one of your kind?"

Thor shrugs from where he is still pinned on the ground.  "If I  _wanted_  one of my kind, I am sure that I could have found someone to partner with.  But I have found you."

"Oh," Loki says, " _oh_ ," and he smiles widely.

Thor smiles and runs his hands up and down Loki's thighs, over the clan lines and to dip under the edges of his breeches where they've loosened and ridden up his legs.  Loki arches his back and stretches, his arousal strained against his pants - and Thor can feel himself flushing, his pupils dilating, breath deepening.

Loki brings his hands down above Thor's shoulders and leans close to his ear, and whispers, deep and throaty, "I'm going to ride your cock until you scream, my pretty little prince."

Thor whines in the back of his throat as Loki levers off him, going over to the chest where he keeps his armor.  Thor lifts his hips and shimmies out of his own breeches, cock finally free from the confines of his pants.

Loki does the same - and Thor doesn't know why he's surprised to see the dark blue lines trace over the curves of his arse and down his thighs, but for some reason he's pleased when Loki turns and they swirl around and away from his cock.

Loki holds up some kind of bar and Thor is terrified for a moment, at least until Loki fits it across the door and with a wave of his hand and a dull throb of light, the bar fits onto the door.

"Though I doubt we'd be interrupted, one can never be too sure."

He slips back over to Thor and takes up his former position, and this time - this time it's much better, skin to skin, warm to cold.  Loki's so smooth and soft that Thor could touch him forever, and Loki allows him to pet him for a while.  His hands trace from shoulder to hips and back again, up to cup his cheeks and comb through his hair.

Loki smiles, sighing, eyes barely open, but he holds on to Thor's hands the next time they trace over Loki's hips.  "Time for that later, little prince."

He pins Thor's hands over his head, wrists crossed, and when he pulls away and Thor tries to move them, nothing happens.

Loki smirks and presses a kiss to his temple, the bridge of his nose, his lips.  "Stay," he teases.

He slides down Thor's legs to rest on his knees, and he murmurs something that Thor can't make out.  When his hand wraps around Thor's cock - and  _oh_ , he could come just like this, from this alone - it's covered in slick, and Thor didn't know magic could do  _that_.

His hips try to stutter upwards, but Loki plants the hand not occupied with making sure he's completely hard on his hip, and he's stronger than he looks.  The thought makes Thor's cock  _throb_ , twitch in Loki's hand, and Loki laughs.

"Patience, lieverd,  _patience_ ," and he pulls away both hands and Thor pants out, "Please, Loki, please."

He feels as though he should be ashamed of begging Loki, but he knows that it's not because someday, someday Loki will be in his position and Loki would not be ashamed.  It's give and take, shared pleasure, and there is no reason that Thor should feel less for it.

Loki reaches behind himself, and Thor longs to know, he wants to stretch Loki out himself, but his fingers struggle uselessly against the bonds of Loki's magic, and even his hips are bound, now.  Loki tosses his head back and pants, biting his lower lip, and it might be for show but Thor doesn't  _care,_  because Loki's the most beautiful thing that he's ever seen, that he's ever wanted.

"Thor," he groans, hips beginning to twist and swivel on his fingers and Thor doesn't know how he's keeping his balance - maybe more magic - and Thor says his name in response, biting his lip now.

"Loki, come on, please - please, Loki, I can't take it," he whines, and he's  _serious_  - he's going to come in moments if Loki doesn't help him, doesn't  _ride_  him.

Loki pulls his fingers out with wet, disgusting noise (but it's so hot to Thor that he  _loves_  it, wants to hear it again and again, over and over) and shifts back up to hover over Thor's cock on his knees.

"Ready, my little prince?"

"Oh, I've  _been_  ready, Loki, mijn hart, mijn liefste," and Loki kisses him, tongue and teeth and lips, and it's so intense - so warm and incredible and mind-blowing - that it's a surprise when Loki reaches back, grabs his cock, and sinks down on it with no preamble.

They both moan, Thor struggling against the magic that holds him, Loki not stopping until his arse meets Thor's hips.  Loki's panting, eyes closed, lips parted and breath coming out in wheezing pants.

"Oh," Loki says, and it's a perfect explanation of what is going on - stars bursting and snow storms and glittering particles, exploding and spreading and warming him, warming them, and Thor realizes that his hips aren't pinned any longer.

When Loki rises he stays still, but as he slides back down - too slowly, too excruciatingly - Thor thrusts up and Loki barks out a noise of surprise.  He smiles, though, and tilts his head back

The curve of him is obscene and Thor wants to touch, wants to wrap his hands around Loki's hips and roll them over, pound him into the ground until Loki's sobbing and begging for it.

It doesn't happen, though, and deep inside Thor knows it's because they both know this is what needs to happen the first time; Loki needs to show that he's just as strong as the Golden Son of Asgard and Thor needs to show that he can bow down to Loki when Loki needs it most.

They writhe and sweat and fuck, and it's so sweet - too sweet - and Thor pants it out when he can feel the pressure building, nearly there, and he has no idea how long Loki's been on top of him.  "Loki," he manages, and Loki nods, fingers biting in to Thor's chest as he leans forward to get Thor's cock deeper and deeper within him, until -

Until - 

Until the magic snaps and Loki cries out, back bowing in the most beautiful curve, head falling onto Thor's shoulder, and he's coming, seizing up in muscle spasms.  Thor can finally move his hands and he wraps them around Loki's shoulders, fucking up into him a few more times - just enough - and he bellows out Loki's name, and it's all white and shining, the snow on the brightest winter day, sun on ice.

He comes back minutes later, maybe hours, because he doesn't know at all.  Loki's head is pillowed on his shoulder, horns nudging against Thor's temple.  His hand rests over Thor's heart, feeling the beats, perhaps, or just soaking up the warmth. His eyes are closed but Thor can tell that he's awake, and he doesn't feel bad about jostling him around for a moment to push an arm under him to rest around Loki's waist.

"Mmm," Loki hums, hand moving down Thor's chest to trail his fingertips in his come, before lifting it to his lips and licking them clean - and Thor would get hard again, but h simply doesn't have the energy.

"Stop," Thor murmurs, and Loki laughs softly.

"I thought you had agreed to do whatever I asked of you for as long as we are trapped here?"

"I do not remember those words, Loki," Thor answers, watching as Loki twitches his fingers and they're both clean, and Thor misses the sweat and stickiness a little.

Loki moves up onto one elbow, looking down at Thor; he smirks.  "Close enough, little prince."

He grins that predator grin again, sharp teeth and sharp eyes, and Thor has never wished more that the storm would last forever and day so that he would never have to leave Loki.  Loki must sense it, because his eyes soften, droop a bit, and he leans to kiss Thor.

"Perhaps a treaty could be worked out," Loki mumbles against Thor's lips, "that involves the continual fucking and eventual marriage of two princes."

Loki moves back a bit, grinning again.  "I've heard your brother is quite attractive."

Thor rolls his eyes.  This is a new Loki, a playful Loki - ready to be with Thor, to fight, to move together.

"The storm is ending," Loki murmurs with a tilt of his head, "and soon you will be able to return to your home."

Thor reaches up, places his palm against Loki's chest where he can feel his heart beating through the skin and muscle.  He grins as Loki furrows his brow.

"My home is here," he says, and Loki melts down to rest half atop him, and Thor knows the words to be truth.


End file.
